


Just a Black Coffee, PLEASE

by Francestheturtle



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Les Amis de l'ABC - Freeform, They'll probably all show up eventually!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:47:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27942512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Francestheturtle/pseuds/Francestheturtle
Summary: A generic coffee shop au, as is legally required for those writing exR ;)"He’s getting a headache again. Combeferre would ask him how much water he’s had today (none) and then how much caffeine (not enough).  Enjolras checks his backpack, but he hasn’t packed any ibuprofen- god he wishes Joly were here, with his comforting assortment of pain meds."Le Musain is a 24 hour coffee shop, and Enj is desperate- even if the barista never makes what he asks for.This is likely going to be a sort of medium burn, we'll see how it unfolds!
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Kudos: 15





	Just a Black Coffee, PLEASE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! This is my first ever fanfiction! I'm setting it loosely in Paris, but I am American- so please let me know if I make mistakes. If any come up I'll be sure to add trigger warnings, but I doubt it'll need any. This is a pretty basic coffee shop, hope y'all like it!  
> Future chapters will be longer, I'm just testing the waters at the moment.

He’s getting a headache again. Combeferre would ask him how much water he’s had today (none) and then how much caffeine (not enough). Enjolras checks his backpack, but he hasn’t packed any ibuprofen- god he wishes Joly were here, with his comforting assortment of pain meds. Oh well. He closes his computer and shoves his textbooks into his bag, then checks his phone to find the nearest coffee shop that’s open at 4:00am.

  
Le Musain is small and unassuming, tucked between a bookstore and some awful Paris tourist trap. When he opens the door the smell of coffee and baked goods hits him. It’s empty, as far as he can tell. The walls are covered in odd, abstract art. Mismatched chairs, and strange patterned rugs make the room feel even smaller than it already is. There’s soft music playing, and behind that he can hear someone moving around in the kitchen space behind the counter.

  
“Hello?” Enjolras calls out to the sound.

  
There’s a clatter, and someone curses. A barista emerges.

  
Enjolras’ first instinct is one of reproach- the man does not look capable of any sort of customer service. He’s wearing a huge paint-stained hoodie, and his dark hair is a complete mess around his head, shoved under a beanie. Then the man smiles, and Enjolras’ second instinct is panic, and a strange tug in his gut.

  
“Sup, Angel. What can I get for you?”

  
“I- Coffee?” The man is still smiling at him, and he’s not exactly attractive. He looks lopsided, his nose has clearly been broken at least once, and he needs a haircut. He looks like he hasn’t slept properly in a month. Enjolras can’t look away from him.

  
“Anything… more specific?” Enjolras notices a nametag pinned to the hoodie, with “R” scrawled on it.  
“Oh. Large, black. I just need caffeine”

  
“Nope. Can’t have dear Apollo drinking dregs.” The man hasn’t stopped smiling and Enjolras hasn’t stopped feeling that pull in his stomach.

  
“I- what?” Enjolras blinks, it’s too late (early?) for this shit. “It’s not about the taste” his headache is getting worse.  
“I’d sure as hell hope it isn’t.”

  
Enjolras is prepared to argue, but R turns and begins pulling espresso shots. Enjolras considers complaining to the management about R’s jeans. They’re much too tight. He catches himself staring, and checks his phone. The time makes him wince, he has class in a few hours.

  
In a few minutes, R turns around and hands him something that is decidedly not a black coffee. There’s whipped cream on it. And- sprinkles? Before he can say anything R is handing him a wax paper bag. It’s warm, and when he opens it there’s a chocolate croissant inside. He jerks his head up, and R laughs.

  
“It’s on the house Apollo, looks like you need it.”

  
“How do you know I’m not allergic? How do you know it’s even for me? Are you allowed to do this?” Enjolras just wants this scruffy man to stop smiling.

  
To his credit, R pauses at this. “Chetta won’t mind. Is- are you allergic?”  
Enjolras huffs. “No.”

  
He wants to say that’s not the point, and that it’s dangerous to assume, and what if he had a health issue, but his phone rings. He answers it, and Courfeyrac is talking rapidly and way too loudly for this early in the morning.  
“Enj, hey! I would have called Ferre but I know he has a big test today and I figured you might still be up, I need help. I was out last night and I went home with this girl and I lost my wallet and it has my metro card, and, well, to be honest I’m not totally sure where I am? I know I’m in the 16th arrondissement. and I’m outside of some apartments? Fuck maybe my wallet is still in her room- I can’t go get it what if she’s awake now. Fuck Enj-”

  
“Courfeyrac. Relax. I’m on my way, text me the address if you can find one”

  
Enj hangs up the call and grabs his drink and the bag, rushing out the door. He’s halfway down the block when he realizes R never charged him. He takes a drink, and swears aloud. It’s fucking perfect. He hates that man.


End file.
